Not What It Looks Like
by Mark-Kris Robin
Summary: An FE:A and slight Fate series (video game/anime) Xover. Mark-Kris Robin Lancer, reporting for duty. Mercenary. A fake past. A bleak future. Confusing events and rivers of blood aside, I think my new life here would be pretty okay. Then again, having near-apocalyptic situations occur every single time I step in a battlefield isn't all that okay. Sometimes funny, always deadly. SI
1. Prologue: Wine Blood

_**"3k1lL 5k00L 7i 74hW 70N" is a linebreak.**_

_Lots of italics are either writing or a flashback._

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Dedicated to the irreplaceable AlimBloodmoon and his fiance! (Because they both are the most awesome virtual siblings. EVAR.)

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_**Prologue: Wine Blood**_

_Two men ran across a frozen plain, with only one destination in mind:_

_The Sacred Chalice._

_Behind the two men was a cloaked lance-wielder running in pursuit of them._

_The first of the two men was a noble with short blue hair and blue armor. The second man had longer blue hair, a red tunic, and leather armor. Both wielded a familiarly similar sword..._

_The man with the shorter blue hair tripped in the snow, but was quickly pulled back up by his companion. "Sir, are you all right?"_

_"I am fine; you need not worry about me. Just run!" Then, he added, under his breath, "Please, just wait for a little bit longer!_

_By this time, the lance-wielder had caught up to him. As the noble fell back and tried to move away, his Servant-no, FRIEND-stood in front of him, readying a shield studded with five gemstones to block the inevitable forward thrust of a sky-blue and white lance. At any other time, the noble would have marveled at the weapon's beauty, but alas..._

Ping!

_The sparks flew off the sky-blue lance and the Fire Emblem for but an instant before the Lancer jumped back in a rebound, preparing for another attack._

_The Saber-class servant peered at his opponent's lance, which was now flickering constantly from its former sky-blue and white appearance to a black and dark-purple color._

_The swordsman shouted something that was lost to the howling winds as his skin paled, his eyes wide with shock when Lancer's hood fell off. Short, light-blue hair flipped amongst the cold Northern winds, capturing snowflakes in the fly, adding to its already breathtaking beauty. Her sad deep-blue eyes met his own unbelieving indigo ones. The noble knew he must have been intruding in something private and personal to the extremes, but he couldn't help straining his ears in order to listen to the Lancer's melancholic words._

_"Surprise, Anri. I'm far too sorry that it had to end this way."_

**3k1lL 5k00L 7i 74hW 70N**

_The noble: cold and weary._

_Anri: battered. Broken._

_"I..." The noble tried to find words to comfort his friend but could just simply not come up with any._

_Because how often is it that a legendary hero was forced to kill his lover, bringing unto her her second death?_

_"N-No, Marth, it's... it's all right. Sir."_

_Marth shoke his head slowly, then turned towards THE relic._

_The Sacred Chalice, in all of its glory._

_It was exactly as how the legends had described it as: a golden goblet, beautiful and grand, fit for only the greatest of kings. But can it truly make a miracle to grant all wishes given to it?_

_"So... Anri..." He looked back at the broken hero' tear-streaked face. "How... how do I wish?"_

_Anri wiped his already-dry eyes and stood up straighter. He walked slowly to the side of his Master. "It always requires one blood sacrifice. One of human blood."_

_"Wha... WHAT?!"_

_"And a price equal to what you wish for. Ask the Chalice yourself." He placed a hand on the top of the goblet. "My life should suffice. After all, I am still living... In a way." He sighed and closed his eyes. "It was a fine journey, sir. Tell your friend hello for me when he comes back."_

_"W-Wait! Anri!" The naive king reached for his Servant's hand but met nothing but air. Anri's whole body was already dissolving, particle by particle, while the goblet was gradually filling up with an ominous, scarlet-red liquid, bring a sharp, metallic tang to the atmosphere._

_"Drink and wish with your heart," he said, before he was gone._

_Forever._

_Marth looked hesitantly at the formerly glorious Chalice, now, to him at least, a cup of burden and pain._

_He was saddened. Oh, how he lamented silently for the first few moments before picking up the Sacred Chalice, now the Cursed Cup._

_No matter how vile the next course if action he would take, he had to do this. He just had to._

_For the person that might mean even more to him than his unborn child, his own wife._

_Even himself._

_He raised the goblet up into the air for a nonexistent cheer. _For **him**_, he thought._

_He brought the Chalice to his lips and began to drink._

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**A/N:**

**Well... Lookie here. Another Fire Emblem: Awakening Self-Insert. This site can't get enough of it, huh?**

**And if you can honestly guess who was the guy that Marth mentioned that was not Anri or Lancer, then you're a REAL Fire Emblem fan. No, it's not Ike. Why would it be Ike? They don't even live in the same CONTINENT. Same for Roy too. (Yes, I have a vendetta against most FE "fans" who only know about that awesome video game series from JUST SSBB. Now shush. I have important information to announce.)**

**For all of you who already know about Fate/(insert_title_name_here), ignore this extremely long A/N and skip to the bottom to follow/favorite/review/hate/leave and never read this fanfic again because it is obviously the worst you had read yet/whatever you do. For those who know SQUAT about the Fate/Stay Night series (you know what? Let's just say F/SN for the rest of the fic), here's a crash course on what you need to know in order to understand this fanfiction at its best.**

**The Holy Grail War is a series of battles to the death in where seven sly, powerful mages each summon one overpowered famous superhero from legends, history, or myths (like Emperor Nero Claudius Germanicus [did I even spell his name right?], King Arthur Pendragon, and Perseus) from one of the seven classes.**

**The superheroes are called Servants, and each of the seven Secants belong to seven different classes: Saber (sword-wielder), Lancer (lance-wielder), Archer (shoots projectiles), Berserker (insanely powerful ppl-literally), Rider (ppl famous for fighting on a mount), Assassin (an... assassin...), and Caster (magic-wielders).**

**The mages are called Masters, and they have three Command Spells stored in a Crest, which are basically supreme commands to have the Masters Servant do whatever their Master wished with no OBJECTIONS! (Couldn't resist.) They supply the mana/prana/anima/magical energy/thingymaboberjig/whatever you call it in order for their Servant to maintain a physical form, since the Servants are basically reborn spirits in manifested bodies.**

**The only things I will be incorporating from F/SN are the Holy Grail (not the War... just the Grail), the seven Servant classes, the Command Spells, and all of the F/SN Sabers I know up to now. What? You honestly think that the same people are used I every War? Oh, please, heck no. We even saw with just Anri right there.**

**Alright, here's the list:**  
**King Arturia Pendragon (the female version of King Arthur Pendragon)**  
**King Arthur Pendragon (if you don't know who he is, please look over your childhood again) **  
**Saber Alter (the "dark" version of Arturia)**  
**Nero Claudius Germanicus (yes, he-er, SHE-is a girl. Blame Type-moon.)**  
**Mordred Pendragon (yes, feminized. Again. The illegitimate son of Arturia/Arthur and Morgan le Fey. Won't go into details how THAT worked out)**

**That's it. The only hard thing anyways is trying to wrap your head around the idea that, yes, King Arthur, Nero, and Mordred are girls. Search up anyone if you don't know them...**

_Reader: So... all of that in the beginning was mostly pointless information._

**Me: That's one way to look at it.**

**Have a nice day, Peeps! (I love Peeps. They're the best marshmallows ever: perfectly soft, sweet, colorful, and all of that sugar... Perfectly perfect for a SUGAR HIGH!")**


	2. Ch 1: Dying and Living

**"3k1lL 5k00L 7i 74hW 70N" is a linebreak.**

_Lots of italics are either writing or a flashback._

_**This writing is... well, you'll find out in this chapter.**_

_+Same for this+_

العربية is Arabic.

中文 is Chinese.

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I apologize for any grammatical mistake for languages besides English. I don't know Arabic, and my Chinese sucks.

I'm not really 19 years old. That's just a futuristic version of me.

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Disclaimer: I have no claims or rights to the Fire Emblem or the Fate/Stay Night series. If that happened, they wouldn't have survived the first release.

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_**ARC I**_

_**Chapter 1: Dying and Living**_

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

**3k1lL 5k00L 7i 74hW 70N**

I slowly opened my eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light in the room. That was sure one weird dream; watching three guys talk to each other with me as a spectator. Or were they girls?

It was boring, nonetheless. Aren't dreams supposed to be-oh, I don't know-exciting?

Where am I again?

...

Oh. Right. Hospital room. That explains the clean smell.

Now... why am I here...?

That's funny. I can't remember. Amnesia~ Hm... Robin-syndrome? ... Amnesia. Oh, how I hated that game. It's as creepy as BEN, which is saying a lot, since that ghost was the reason why I couldn't sleep in the dark for THREE STRAIGHT DAYS.

Hm... It's like a mystery! Okay, what hurts? ... Breathing deeply-OW OW OW OW *cough hack hack choke cough*

Not trying that again. Is that… blood? On my blankets?

Ooh. Blood. That metallic smell...

My head hurts too. A lot.

What time is it? (No, it's not tiaco time. Like, the actual time.)

I tried to look around the room but dang, my head hurts too much, and this stupid artificial light won't let me see the amount of sunlight peeking through the window's shutters.

I can be really smart sometimes.

And sometimes I'm the stupidest person that had ever existed.

Am I talking to myself?

Of course, Mark! Who else?

Wait. I thought that was the tactician's name.

Wait. Which tactician? There are two of 'em.

Hm... Which one... Which one...

Eventually tired of rambling to myself, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I'm forgetting something.

...

...

Something really important...

Oh! Right! Prayer! Man, what kind of Christian am I if I can't chat with God before I go night, night?

"Dear God..."

OWWWWW... Bad headache, bad!

Maybe it'll be better if I just telepathically have a conversation with the Creator. Hope he understands.

Dear God, thank you that I'm alive and breathing, albeit a bit painfully. Please help me to get better and out of this stupid, clean room. We both know I need a little chaos in life in order to survive. Seriously. THE CLEANLINESS OF THIS ROOM IS KILLING ME. Anyways, please help me to be more positive and... See! I'm happier now! Aren't you proud? Anyways, thanks for being there. You may not be talkative, but just knowing that you're there makes me happy.

In Jesus's name I pray, amen.

After my private (one-sided) conversation with God, I snuggled myself into my most comfortable position and fell asleep.

Sleeeeeep.

Sleep.

SLEEEEEEEEEP...

**3k1lL 5k00L 7i 74hW 70N**

The next time I woke up, I was overwhelmed not by light, but this time in... nothingness? That would be the most logical description for my surroundings. All around me was nothing more than a white, endless expanse. I was floating in midair, except it didn't feel like. Like the white wasn't really white. Like there was a giant absence in where air should've been.

How did I end up in this weird place anyways?

Everything just felt so...

Empty.

This has to be what people call nothingness. Yet, how could I be there in what is literally the middle of nowhere and nothing, a dimension where nothing existed? Is this all a dream?

Or, a more absurd, but completely possible thought: am I dead already?

Best yet, I couldn't feel anything, couldn't taste my own mouth.

Perhaps I'm a disembodied soul already.

...

So, to put it bluntly, I'm dead.

Oh well. At least I finished my UTAUloid.

...

I really need to keep my priorities straight.

For the next passage of time (It's not like I can really measure it right now... Is there even a concept called time in the midst of nothing?), I "floated" in this silent, empty space, contemplating about my life, but soon, I started being afraid.

Is this Hell? Was _this_ my eternal punishment? What did I ever do-

My thoughts were cut off when I nearly got snapped up by a dragon. A pretty dragon with seaweedy hands, feet, horns, and wings, all rainbow-y in color, like the glorious, colorful version of Tiki the manakete, to be more precise.

Whatever I did at my last hour, the attitude probably rubbed off on me...

What.

For a very long time, the two of us played a weird game of chase; the pretty dragon was chasing me around, trying to get a grab at me with her rows of pretty teeth while I... floated? Swam? Flew? Ran? Whatever would best describe my method of escaping the dragon's jaws, I did it while screaming silent screams. Hey, remember your physics lessons. Sound can't travel without something to travel through, and the last I remembered, I was in the middle of NOWHERE. LITERALLY. (Speaking of which... Why can I still see color? ...Meh. For all I know, it might be third-world magic from the planet AsDfGhJkL of star Agnes Sze Pui Chan Leung, AKA Gemini RA 6h 49m 40s D 21' 57'...)

Souls don't need oxygen (obviously), but instead rely on spiritual energy to do crazy stuff like running away from a dragon that's trying to eat you, and they can die, just like regular, living people. At least, that's my theory in my weird, twisted philosophy.

If I am going to die (again), then I guess being eaten by a very pretty dragon is an okay way to go. Either that or I die from exhaustion, and... My soul still gets devoured... Never mind.

What am I even talking about?! Stop being suicidal!

Finally, I had a genius idea, so genius that I think even da Vinci would be proud of me.

Either that, or even a baby would facepalm at the sight of my reckless stupidity.

I made a sharp turn to what I think was my right, and as the pretty dragon barreled past, I latched onto her tail. (Its? His? Her? Whatever.) I hung on for dear afterlife as I tried, _tried_ to climb up the scaly tail as she began chasing her tail. Or me. Take it either way.

Suddenly, I was plucked off the pretty dragon's tail and got carried away on some person's shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

After a moment of shock, I started thrashing wildly until a voice in my head yelled, _**"STOP. Do you want to die again that fast?!"**_

Wait. I have a voice in my head. I usually pretend as such, but a real, actual voice in my head?

Ah... I won't question it.

After a while of playing tag, with the pretty dragon as "It", we somehow winded up into a very dark space, in comparison to the previous white nothingness, leaving the pretty dragon behind. My savior said nothing while he shrugged me off his shoulder. Thank God for zero-gravity.

"So... um, thanks, whoever you are..." It's not like I could see his/her face, since the both of us was immersed in complete and total darkness. Oh look, here's my voice... or is it?

"My apologies. I'll have the setting fixed up right away," a masculine voice replied.

And it was just like that.

Suddenly, I was in a bright clearing, surrounded by different species of perfectly green trees, from apple, to peach, to elm... Various flowers dotted the utopia, and butterflies flitted around the scented beings. The temperature was even perfect: not too hot, not too cold.

At least I wasn't allergic to pollen or something; this whole place was like a perpetual spring.

"So... this is heaven, I guess?" I asked after admiring the scenery.

Speaking of nothing in particular, where is that pers-

"Hey." A man, around maybe his mid-twenties, stepped out of an orange tree's shadow. He wore black pants with black boots and a black tunic, covered with a cloak that suspiciously looked a whole lot like the Avatar's cloak from Fire Emblem: Awakening. His hair was a dark, messy bed-head, like he just woke up and fought Grima to the death.

Okay, so that might be an exaggeration... but you know what I'm talking about.

"Hi," I replied back, raising my hand in a greeting.

"Are you alright?" he asked me, his unnatural red eyes showing signs of concern.

I nodded.

"And to add, you're welcome, and no, this isn't heaven." So he was my knight in shining armor... without the knight in shining armor part. Ah, you know what I am talking about.

My face probably had some stupid expression on it because he told me to stop looking so flabbergasted. "Sorry," I apologized as I rubbed my head in embarrassment. "But if this isn't heaven, and I'm pretty sure Hell isn't this pretty, then where am I?"

"Your mind," he stated bluntly. "Or something like that; I'm not too sure about this 'summoning people from other worlds to help you' business. Usually it's Naga who would do such crazy things. Or some other great, powerful, _light_ deity..." He spoke the word 'light' with so much disdain that I literally took a step back. He mumbled some curses about how light deities thought dark deities are always pathetic, cheap beings, and then turned towards me. "My sincerest apologies for the rant I just had. Anyways, what's the name you're most commonly known by?"

Is anyone else having the feeling that this seems a lot like a cliché introduction in a Pokèmon game?

"Um... Mark-Kris Robin, sir."

He cringed at the word 'sir'. "I'm not _THAT_ old..."

I couldn't resist the smallest if giggles. "Welcome to my world of honorifics, _sir_."

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. I shook it out of common courtesy. "Call me Grima," he introduced.

It took me a moment to register that name.

"WAIT. Grima. As in the evil, megalomaniacal , demonic manakete/Earth Dragon of darkness and destruction that's wants nothing more than to see the world burn from his own horrific actions?!" I shrieked.

His long expression was priceless! "So you've played the game," he deadpanned.

Ahem. Please stand back. Now, cue the fangirling.

I nodded eagerly and then squeed. "YESH! I GET TO MEET THE UNIVERSES' MOST AWESOME VILLAIN EVAR!"

Grima looked taken aback from my excited outburst before he smiled. "Technically, I'm only a dark manakete (I wasn't myself at that last outburst), but it's glad to know I've got at least one fan..."

Did I just here something that cued in on a reason why he tried to destroy the world?

Meh. I can always ask him later.

The both of us dropped our hands from the handshake as the ex-villain (I hope so...) waved a table with three cups of tea and three chairs into existence.

Wait. Three?

"Hey, Grim-Grim-can I call you Grim-Grim?"

"Yes you can, no, you may not."

"Okay. Hey, Master Grima-"

"Oh God-"

"Thou shalt not say God's name in vain-"

"Shut up, woman, and just fucking call me Grima!"

"Sorry, sorry, just trying to be funny... And failing... Anyways, Grima, who's the third chair for?" I took a sip of tea. Ah... Chrysanthemum tea... I got homesick and lowered my head as my companion replied: "You'll know soon... Why do you look so sad?"

I ignored him and spiraled into a pit of depression, realizing for the first time that, yes, I am _DEAD_, and I'll never get the chance to go back, alive and well. I belatedly wiped a tear as I cried.

No. Me? Crying? I've forgotten how to cry a long time ago, right?

But the streaming tears denied such a fantasy. Then again, even though I was an emotionless prick for the majority of my teenage years, I've shed more invisible tears than what I would've ever wanted. Or liked. Or needed.

"Oh God, oh God, I'm dead, dead..." No longer could I bake pumpkin pie for my extended family on Thanksgiving, no longer could I play SSBB with my dreadfully annoying little brother, no longer could I continue the dream of making an anime with all of my good friends. _"Life sucks, and then you die,"_ a person once said. Whoever that person was, he or she couldn't 've been any more right than that.

My teenage years... sucked, to put it mildly.

Okay, cut the censorship, Kris, and be honest with yourself.

My life was nothing but a _LIVING_ **HELL** for me. I was ignored, never acknowledged, never recognized. I was always being made fun of because of my Chinese heritage, my abnormal love for writing, my obsession with video games, anime, and manga, and even for just the fact I was always a _little_ bit overprotective over my friends. (My fault. But I still love 'em! What kind of friend am I to NOT defend them?!)

It was no better at home; I was constantly under a super-pressurized atmosphere. Because I was the oldest, everyone expected nothing less but the best from me. Anything less, and my parents would always get mad at me. My cousins and my little brother never listened to me, never gave me an ounce of respect.

From such a life, who wouldn't cut themselves?

But even then, I tried to push through. I tried to stand out. I tried to do good, tried to pick people up, tried to comfort people. I've failed several times, but whenever I see people walk off happily without thanking me, I would always smile a bit, knowing that even if no one realizes it, I still did something to change at least _one_ person's world.

Thus, the name I gave myself: the Silent Hero. I've learned that the one who helps others discreetly, silently, with no coaxing needed, without asking for anything in return, are the greatest heroes in the world.

After going through that complicated train of thought, I lifted my head back up, picking now the perfect time to register two strong arms around me.

...

What?

"Are you feeling better now?" Grima asked me, his voiced soft against my ear.

Ah... Too close for comfort. But this still had to be my best brotherly hug yet...

"I'm better now, Grima. Now get off or people might get the wrong idea."

At my words, the dark manakete immediately jumped back and returned to his seat as fast as he could. I couldn't hold my laughter in when I saw his flustered face.

"Ahahahahah! Oh my gosh, your face-priceless!"

If possible, his face became redder from embarrassment as his slumped on his chair. "Stop..."

After the fiasco, we returned to our normal positions and normal expressions. "So... How did you... get me, I guess?" I asked hesitantly.

Grima smiled. Grimly. "Your death, whether or not it was natural, would have happened anyways. Anyways, as far as I know, you're just some disembodied soul I came across with. Actually, you should be glad of that stunt I pulled off. You can't believe how much energy I'm taking up just keeping this dream up."

My ears perked up. "Wait. So all of this is just a dream?"

"Technically... since you're not alive and in the flesh, no. Which brings us to a problem that I... That I need help in." Grima looked down for one second, probably trying to recover his thoughts, before he looked back up, staring right at me with his calm, red eyes. "You are brought her for a special reason. You, Mark-Kris Robin, must change the fate of a timeline that, if left unaltered, would utterly decimate the universe as we know it."

I blinked once. Twice. "What?"

"It's exactly how it sounds like. Anyhow..." He stood up and after looking in my teacup, glared at me. "Drink the rest of your tea. It's probably cold by now!" His voice held a tone of anger, making even my father's angry tone seem like a child asking her mommy to play with her.

I drank my tea in one fell swoop and stood up with Grima, making an apologetic bow towards him. "Gomennesai, Grima-senpai."

"What the fuck was that?"

"A classical Japanese apology. Anyways, just to make things clear: this is just another bad Fire Emblem: Awakening self-insert fanfic where the author takes forever to complete it because she always sidetracks and instead reads and edits other people's stories and keeps on playing her favorite MMORPG games, correct?"

Grima cocked his head at me. "What?"

"Never mind. I get it now."

"Also..." Grima began staring at me.

"What?" I asked him.

"You look like a generic female human, and you're not exactly talking. More like just projecting words into my head. After all, it's pretty hard to talk without a voice..." he stated, a smirk starting to form on his face.

I intentionally let my right eye twitch as I thought about it. Having a non-existent voice and a generic body... Well, that won't sit well with anybody, especially not yours truly here!

"Okay. So. First thing's first. I absolutely need a voice."

"At least your priorities are straight now," he muttered. Of course I heard it. Why else would I bonk him on the head with my fist? "Anyways, I have absolutely no idea how to recreate a voice. A body like its original? Sure. A voice? Nope," he stated as he rubbed his head.

I nodded. "Still though..."

"I can see, but I can't hear anything except for your 'electronic' stuff-"

"Use my UTAUloid."

"Excuse me?"

"My UTAUloid. It's a synthetic voice that I made that sounds realistic enough, finished, and thoroughly perfect... At least, I think it is..." I trailed off as I started thinking. Does my UTAU sound okay? (Either way, it was still awesome. It sounds awesome as both a guy and a girl.) I'm pretty sure it does.

"Well... let's see..." Grima closed his eyes, and a foreign feeling set itself down right where my throat would be. Actually, it was settling all around my entire body. One moment, I was skinny and generic, and the next moment, I was... bigger, just a bit, for the lack of better wording.

"So... how do I sound?" I asked my awfully unique benefactor and guide. This time, when I spoke, it had a more... UTAU-y like feel to it, with a small wisp of an indescribable something, like I held the wind in my voice whenever I spoke. Complementary of the UTAU software. It's almost impossible to get rid of that if you aren't an experienced voice actor, which I'm not. Wish I could be one before... I...

...Yeah.

He smiled and replied, "Way much more better. Now, there's more I can offer you..."

We both sat down at the table and poured our own cups of tea. "Anyways, being an awfully nice prick that I may sometimes be, I am going to give you a gift, and grant whatever other two wishes you ask of me, as long as it's able to be done with my current state..." I nearly did a spit-take at his proposal.

"Wait, WHAT? You? Being this freakishly nice? You're freaking GRIMA!" I exclaimed in surprise.

He raised an eyebrow at me as he took a sip of the tea. "Are you saying I'm incapable of being generous and kind-hearted? Fucking damn that stupid video game..." His last comment earned an awfully convenient walnut I found on the ground at his head.

"Fire Emblem: Awakening is awesome, although I do agree with you about the people's portrayal of your character. They left so many plot-holes... They better make a sequel or a prequel... Anyways, when'll you give me the first present?"

Grima rolled his eyes. "Eager, aren't you? Anyways..." He raised his hand to the air and snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened.

He snapped his fingers again.

A cricket chirped.

He sighed and snapped his fingers yet again, clearly annoyed by... Something.

I chirped along with the cricket with perfect tone, pitch, note, key, and synchronization. I'm really starting to love this voice of mine.

Grima literally growled in frustration. "Are you kidding me?! Am I this weak that I can't even tap in to my Magic Circuits?!" At the mention of Magic Circuits, I immediately paid more attention to my benefactor.

"Magic Circuits? Like in Fate/Stay Night?"

"Yes, now shut-"

"Maybe a magic circle can help for whatever you're trying to summon?" I advised, interrupting Grima.

He gave a shameful sigh. "Fine. But we don't even have a reference, and I doubt you even know how to construct one..."

"Well..." I started, and held out my hand. My sky-blue iPod appeared in my hand just like that. "Never underestimate the knowledge of an anime/manga/video game/history otaku/nerd. Oh! And the power of research too!"

Why was he groaning?

**3k1lL 5k00L 7i 74hW 70N**

After some measure of time, we finally constructed some sort of magic circle unlike one from Fate/Stay Night that was used to summon the Servants. However, there was one little thing bothering me...

"Um... Grima?"

"Yes?" he replied with an annoyed tone, probably because he was fed up with my research. Hey! It's fun!

"Doesn't it bother you that there's no Holy Grail War happening in Fire Emblem, right?"

He gave me a look that would best be described as incredulous. "It's a long and complicated process, so unless you're an expert in magic, just don't ask for the full details."

That promptly shut me up.

He muttered some words that suspiciously sounded a whole lot like Urdu, and from the midst of the circle, a feminine figure rose from the ground.

Wait.

I blinked once. Twice. Thrice.

"Um… You actually summoned Arturia Uther Pendragon? Or is this just a projection?"

He stopped his chanting and looked back at me with a disappointed look. What did I do…? "There's a defect. Instead of just summoning her, I may have accidentally summoned some other previous/future Sabers…" I appropriately facepalmed at that moment and sighed.

"I thought you were supposed to a magic major…"

"I haven't done magic for one-thousand years! Gods…"

Arturia turned towards us. "Ah… excuse me, sir, but I believe there currently isn't a Holy Grail War as of now…" she said politely. Try to hold down the fangirl inside, Kris. RESTRAIN THE FANGIRL!

Grima faced Arturia with an exasperated expression. Again, what did I do? "No, but an incoming calamity would technically be the same thing, right?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment before answering, "Ah… I guess so… You still need to protect the one who summoned you either way…"

"I exist too, you know…" I muttered, but I stayed quiet otherwise. After all, this was my regular treatment in my world before I died…

"And who might this young lady be?" Arturia said, snapping me out of my silence.

"A-Ah, me? I'm Mark-Kris Robin, your Majesty." Yes, I'm nervous and a bit flabbergasted at the sight of such a legendary figure in anime. I mean, if you're standing in front of what's legendary royalty back from the dark ages whose masculine name everyone knows, you'd probably do the same thing, right? Unless you're my little brother…

She looked at me with amusement in her eyes. "Please, hold the theatrics. I prefer for no man or woman to use them, especially if you are the one I am charged with protecting." Um… what?

"Anyways, we should all sit down. Arturia, please have a cup of tea."

"Thank you…" she trailed off, not knowing our dear favorite dragon of malice and destruction's name.

"Grima," he replied politely. Politely. POLITELY. There really are a lot of things that I thought wrong about Grima…

We all sat down, the tea still mysteriously (or magically) hot. As the girls (Saber and I) drank little sips of our tea, Grima let his cup sit and got straight to the point. Namely, with my second gift. "So… I gave one gift to you. What do you want as a second one?"

I thought about it. Well, in the Fire Emblem worlds, no matter where you are, you always need to travel. A lot. And I can be a pretty heavy packer, with evidence from my previous memories of stuffing my carry-on luggage with A LOT of important… stuff. Yes, my brown stuffed pony is important for a trip to Italy. Aw… now I'm starting to miss it…

But let's get back to the point. Lots of stuff to pack, not enough space to carry it around in… Aw, heck, this is one Mary-Sue of an idea.

"Hey, Grima, do you think that you can whip up a bag that lets my infinitely store things in it without taking up space?" Nope. Totally didn't get that idea from Leo's belt-thingy from the Heroes of Olympus.

He shrugged. "It requires quite complicated tapping magic—"

"What in the world is tapping magic?" I asked, maybe intentionally to interrupt Grima and make him annoyed, but mostly to satiate my curiosity.

"I would assume it is tapping onto one's Magic Circuits, correct?" Arturia kinda answered me.

"Don't assume. It makes an ass out of you and me. But yeah. That's the Terranian term for it. Anyways…" He started making my bag, leaving both Arturia and I together to talk.

"So… Um… Can I call you Saber? I think it's easier that way, since that's how I primarily remember you…" I said, trying to be as respectful as my parents taught me. Gee, who'd know that those teaching would stick beyond death.

She smiled. "That is all right with me. May I call you Kris is return?"

I nodded happily and drank another sip of tea. It was now magically green tea. My favorite.

"Hey, Saber, what do you think Grima meant by 'Terranian'?" I asked.

"The base name would be Terra, which is the name of the Fire Emblem world," Grima replied rather unenthusiastically.

"Thanks… wait. Isn't 'Terra' Latin for 'earth'? In fact, what the heck is Latin doing in the Fire Emblem world?"

"What you determine as this 'Latin' is what the Terranians call 'Ylissean'. It's derived from the ancient Akaneian language."

"Thanks, Grima," I earnestly thanked, then turned back to Saber.

She now had a longsword with a blue and golden hilt and its scabbard lain on her lap: Excalibur and Avalon. "Just as a test of wisdom, which holds more value: the sword or the scabbard? And why?" she asked.

Ha. I did this all the time with people my age that pretended to be "smart". "The scabbard. I provides near-youthful-immortality to the bearer. It's not that I want to be something like an immortal, but an automatic healing device is something I definitely want." No brainer.

Saber gave a wide smile and handed Avalon to me. "Take it, Lady Kris. You might need it."

"Might. Might. Yeah, _might_. And I'm not a 'lady'," I muttered, then strapped it onto my belt… hey. Nice armor. Black, indigo, dark purple… that's definitely my motif here.

"Right. Because she'd die within the first five hours in Terra," Grima teased, then handed the magical bag over to me. It was a black crossbody bag, with the bag off to the side, large enough to hold an encyclopedia and a book from the Heroes of Olympus.

Just when I was about to get up and stretch, a stack of stapled papers (not going to ask)got shoved in my face.

I grabbed the papers and pulled them away from me until I could see the first words. "_Profile- Mark-Kris Robin_," I read out loud. I looked at a tired-looking Grima.

He yawned. "Not explaining everything. You read it, you evaluate it, you fill in the blanks, I'll tell you what to do. فهم?"

And he plopped his head on the table and took a nap right there.

Huh. I'm going to assume that "pho-hem'meh" (which is probably Arabian, due to the accent) is Plegian. This IS Grima, after all. I looked back at the papers and felt Saber looking over my shoulder. I promptly ignored any outside interference as I read the probably important information.

_Profile- Mark-Kris Robin_

_Full name: Mark-Kris Robin __

I replaced the blank with "Lancer" with a conjured pencil (apparently, you can summon anything that had ever been imagined with the human imagination in here. Whee.), making it say: _Full name: Mark-Kris Robin __Lancer_.

Next…

_Nickname: __

Kris.

_Sex: Female_

_Race: Human_

Seriously?

You know, seeing these letters, they seem awfully weird, yet I could still read them… oh wait. They're Latin. So… that's the Ylissean language Grima mentioned, I guess?

_Class: Dark Seer*_

Oh look. Footnote. I hate footnotes.

"_Dark Seers are benevolent foreseers that are more inclined to negotiate than fight. The first Dark Seer was found during the Apocalypse from one thousand years ago, a thousand years after the first Light Seer. Known as Queen Lucina Greil, wife of King Gawain Griel II, she had set down many of the principles that modern Dark Seers use today (if there are any left),"_ Saber read aloud.

"Sounds interesting. And pretty ominous," I chimed.

_Dark Seers are adept at using __all__ forms of anima magic, with the exception of light magic, which is performed using tapping magic. There is never a Dark Seer with the same kind of light magic. However, attempts to find out the kind of light magic one uses had resulted in disastrous results, discouraging many Dark Seers from ever using light magic in the first place._

"Sensible, yet stupid," I commented.

_As of now, no Dark Seers exists since the Second Mad King's War from fifteen years ago. This is because of the Seer Hunt order of the late King Mordred that affected both Dark and Light Seers._

And that was the end.

"Well… I doubt this would go well…" Saber concluded. I nodded slightly. "By the way, have you decided on your third wish?" she asked me.

"What thir- oh. Nope. May I hold it off until later?"

"Yes," Grima replied. Yay! He's awake!

"Question: who was that dragon that you saved me from?"

He fell silent, before answering, "That's irrelevant right now. Anyways, have you read everything including the rules?"

"What rules- oh. These rules." I shrugged. "I can read them later."

"Kris-"

"What can be done tomorrow can be done today. Yes, Mommy Saber. Anyhow…" I looked at Grima, who looked back at me.

"What?"

"Uh… It's pretty hard to save the world in a fantasy/zombie apocalypse setting without a weapon…"

Grima blinked, then rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Sorry. That'll be taken care of right after you enter Terra." He looked towards Saber, and she nodded. He looked back at me and asked, "Are you ready?"

I nodded in anticipation.

Grima walked over to me and touched my forehead…

And all was black.

**3k1lL 5k00L 7i 74hW 70N**

Hm… The air smells nice today for an apartment room that has a smoker next door-

WAIT.

I opened my eyes and saw the patterned shadows of leaves and sunlight. I sat up and looked around me. Apparently, I was in a deciduous forest of some kind. Colorful leaves flooded the ground, telling me that it was probably autumn in this are as of now.

So. Memories. What happened.

I was in a hospital room, died, got revived as a soul, got a voice makeover, chatted, had a new guardian/best friend, met my unique benefactor, got informed, realized I was probably in a bad self-insert fanfiction where the author never updates due to stupid distractions… And not necessarily in that order…

SABER!

_+Please refrain from yelling out my name whoever you are… Kris?+_

Hi, Saber. Telepathic talking?

_+I would assume so.+_

_**How many times do I have to tell you, Saber? Don't assume. It-**_

Makes an arse out of you and me. Hi… Grima?

_**Christians and their obsession of censoring curse words. And yes.**_

I still like to call people pathetic bastards. Ah, the colors that fly across their face!

_**Quite true, actually. You should have seen Lucina's expression when I called her that.**_

Which Lucina?

_**The wife of the first Exalt. However, that comment led to my downfall…**_

Lesson learned. Don't insult royalty.

_+Does that apply to me as well?+_

Oh dang, that sounded deadly. _**Y-Yes! No! Um… Go by what I mean and not what I say?**_

Sorry. Anyways, where are you, Saber?

_+In a forest.+_

Very helpful.

_+Just stay put. I'll track you down.+_

Okay.

So, Grima. Are you from time-traveling Lucina's time, or baby Lucina's time? Because I'd hate to be in the doomed timeline.

_**What?**_

Just answer the question.

_**I'm from the "present" timeline. And about your weapons, I've given you a Wind tome, which is in your bag, a bronze lance which is on your back, and two knives, each hidden in each boot.**_

Oh. That explains this pole thing… But YAY! Knives!

_**That's… disturbing- En guard!**_

At those words, my head slowly turns and scopes out any abnormalities from the view, my ears straining for any sort of noise coming from aside Grima and I. My hand reached inside the bag and… wait. How does this go?

_**Whatever you or I put inside the bag, just think of it and pull it out. Also, basics of anima magic: tomes don't produce it, but instead, by chanting the enchantment seal written in it, the magic in channeled into a form it can be used in. The more mature the wielder is, the more masterful tomes they can use and the less restraint on their raw magic power, which is simply referred to as Energy. The most skilled and mature mages don't even need tomes at all. Staves also do the same thing.**_

Got it. Build character and chant magical words to make this go whoosh, burn, and boom.

I pulled out the wind tome and quickly scanned it. The symbols written in it strongly resembled the Arabic language, from the few peeks I made at my friend's Koran. Unfortunately, I don't know Arabic. Too complicated.

_**There are also translations in Ylissean, Feroxi, Chon'sinian, Rosannese, and Valmese.**_

Latin, English, blah, blah, and blah. Got it.

I flipped the pages until I reached the English/Feroxi section and started chanting.

_**You should know that Feroxi magic is the weakest in the world…**_

You should know that I don't care! Screw the language barriers power thingy! I'm trying to not die!

And so, when the first bandit lept at me, he got a strong gust of air at his face, effectively blinding him.

_**W-What?! That's just a Wind tome, and in Feroxi at that! H-How…**_

My belief in magical unicorns!

I quickly put away my Wind tome and exchanged it for the lance for efficiency. Unfortunately for me (again), all I know to do with it as of now was to stab people with the sharp, pointy thing and knock 'em around.

Oh great. Killing people.

"Y-You!"

Deciding to ignore the mostly-harmless blind bandit, I jumped away from the stab of another bandit's sword. Thank God for my mom's reflexes. It's amazing to just see the speed of how she catches dishes that either my little brother or I (or both) drop.

I eyed my opponent. Both his pose and expression reeked of confidence and anger. For me, I was already lacking in both self-esteem and self-confidence, and the only forms of fighting I know are unexpected attacks in broad daylight, knife fighting, and fist fighting, along with a gun or two. Moving from Texan suburbs to northeastern cities do that to you. Hooray for partial paranoia.

Great. Just great.

"Put down yer sword, boy!" Er… I'm pretty sure that I have a chest- oh wait, it's bound, and I have my broad shoulders and androgynous face…

Well… Here goes a random, stupid idea. Let's just hope I don't die in some horrifying, terrible, painful way!

I threw my lance about a yard between my assailant and walked towards him, not looking at my lance. His face contorted into confusion at first, but it quickly changed into an expression of satisfaction. "Good girl…" he hissed.

Lances are way much more heavier than pencils. I just hope this works.

Honestly, I'm scared out of my mind. The blind bandit was still hobbling around. The other bandit smirked.

Kill or be killed, Kris.

As fast as I can, I picked up the lance with my right foot (commenting on its considerably heavier weight for a split-second) and kicked it up into the air, catching it with both of my hands. The surprise of the bandit was his downfall as I charged him.

The point pierced his chest. Where exactly, I don't know. I won't remember.

Not like I'd want to, anyways.

The body fell, dying. His eyes, dimming until they completely glazed over. It felt like time was slowing.

But what really caught my eye were the flying droplets of blood. Before, I couldn't think straight. Ideas were made, caught, and released on the fly. My heartbeat pulsed quickly- too quickly.

The familiar, warm, metallic scent of blood, the scarlet drops…

_I cut myself again and again, in fury; tears, mingling with blood…_

My breathing and heartbeat slowed. Adrenaline still flowed within my blood, which was roaring in my ears, but my mind stopped panicking. Where was once fear…

Was now replaced with a hyper-active sense of my surroundings and a terrible, erupting bloodlust.

Some people in my situation would throw up. Others would faint. Most would feel an overbearing sense of either disgust of the blood and gore, or guilt that they had killed a real, once-living, once-breathing person, or, more likely, both.

As for me, an emotionless, deathly calm swept over me, whispering sweet, sweet words of "drink blood" and "kill more".

Which scares me more than anything else that exists in all of the universes.

_**Damn. I really messed up, didn't I? This is supposed to be Naga's forte, not mine…**_

I brought the tip of my lance up to my mouth and licked it.

Warm.

Metallic.

Thick.

Salty.

And all-so-satisfying.

I licked the rest of the blood off the blade part of the lance and silently crept behind the blind bandit.

"Hey! Where are ya guys? There's a fuckin' bitch-"

An eye-twitch and a stab later, the loud man was dead.

I turned around, and in a low voice, threatened the approaching shadows, "If you want to die, you are more than welcome to fall at my lance-point to do so."

An axe-wielding bandit rushed at me. My body went into auto-pilot mode, and I stepped aside just enough so that I could avoid being at least moderately cut up. A gash blossomed on my upper right arm where he struck me. Pain flashed across body.

I ignored it. It's nothing compared to drowning in blood.

A dangerous dance followed in between my opponent and I, consisting of stabs, slices, and dodges. However, such combat wasn't really my style.

"你什么时候就死呀？！"

I'm Chinese. What do you expect?

The ax slashed horizontally. I ducked and ran towards him and tried to stab at his chest.

Instead, I hit his gut.

Oh well. Same result. He still dies. Hope they don't have a healer on their side.

After licking my lance clean, I looked around and challenged the rest of the now-probably-freaked-out bandits, "So… who's next?"

The idiots needed no more pressure to take off running.

I stared at the three bodies that I had killed.

"Damn you…"

The hate-filled words came from the person that I stabbed, who was still dying. I walked over to him and peered into his eyes.

Hate, bitterness, hopelessness…

Fear.

How many times have I seen those emotions in my own eyes? Too many to count? Not at all? I only knew it came soon after my parents threw me out of the house, and when I was alone in a dormitory in Harvard, with nothing but myself and my imagination.

"For what?" I replied icily.

"Those eyes… yer even worse than Grimleals… ya cold-blooded murderer…"

"Speak for yourself," I retorted, then stabbed his chest.

He died with a messy gurgle of blood bubbles in his mouth.

As I cleaned my lance with a piece of cloth ripped from some of his clothes, I couldn't help but think that his words rang truth in it.

My heart told me to forget it. My mind told me to think over it.

I killed people. Emotionlessly. Without guilt.

Something wet streamed down my cheeks.

I raised my head up, expecting rain. All I saw was the near-leafless canopy and the setting sun.

I blinked my eyes. More fell.

It reached to the corner of my mouth. I lapped it up.

It was salty, but with no thickness or iron.

Tears.

So maybe I'm not _that_ much of a monster.

My mind cleared from the fog, the mist, and the horrid situation decided that it was the perfect moment to take its full toll on me and render my soul brittle and dry.

I had KILLED. With NO emotion. No guilt. WILLINGLY. It wasn't self-defense- I had RELISHED in their DEATHS, their BLOOD.

They're bandits. So what? They're still people, in some way or form.

I looked back at those bodies.

I bowed down.

A cried.

And that was how Saber found me. Kneeling. Crying. Bloody. On a fine, crisp autumn evening.

**3k1lL 5k00L 7i 74hW 70N**

It was a month since then. I told Saber about my apparent psychopathic sate, and to my relief, she didn't seem all too disturbed. She's been helping me with it since then.

"I've known worse," she explained.

Duh. She had a pretty messed up family.

Nowadays, the atmosphere was much lighter between Saber, Grima, and me.

"Saber, I'm starting to get kinda worried. There's no news of a bandit attack on Southtown yet, is there?" I inquired.

She sighed. "Who posts news of bandit attacks? Those happen almost every single day."

"… True that- DON'T KILL ME!"

My lance quickly intercepted the sword strike from the blond swordswoman. "Saber, you could've easily beheaded me like that!"

She smirked. "I trusted you to block that quickly enough. You have a knack for progressing very quickly with all sorts of actions, and it seems like fighting is a new forte of yours."

I sighed. "You just don't get the point, do you," I responded, exasperated.

"I was just jesting. Now, let's train!"

An hour later, the two of us continued down the road again. Pulling out a map, she inspected it and checked out position. "We're nearly at the border. Once we talk to the borderguaards, we're in Ylisse," Saber announced.

Yay! Ylisse!

_**Ah… Kris? Saber?**_

_+Yes?+_

Yeah?

_**I may have made some mistakes that may jeopardize everything I have planned and also provide some extra whatever for the two of you?**_

Grima, we already have multiple Saber-class people running around (not that I'm worrying; all of the Saber known in the Fate series are pretty nice enough), and let's not mention the fact that I'm a psychopath on the battlefield. What next? That your vessel's mom is currently the tactician of Elibe instead of being dead and she just so happens to be Katarina the had time-traveled from Marth's time and developed a fetish for dark, murderous, and religious sorcerers?

_**His mother is actually a descendant of Katarina and the famed tactician of Eliwood, Hector, and Lyn: Mark.**_

_+Grima, that's hardly relevant right now. What is it?+_

_**Ah… Well… Avalon can only heal fatal wounds…**_

Kinda figured that out after my first battle when that cut wouldn't heal up…

_**Kris actually gets damaged instead of healed when a healing staff is used on her…**_

That's WAY too messed up!

_+I completely agree with that.+_

_**No one's perfect! Gods… And also, she gets severely burned if she touches any light-based holy weapon/material, including powerful light tomes, the goddess staff, Falchion, the Fire Emblem, etc., etc…**_

… Don't make Chrom, Lucina, or Emm mad. Got it. You still suck, though.

_+One would know that these things would bound to happen, Kris…+_

Grima still sucks.

_**I'm the whole reason you're still alive here! My soul energy is supplying your life force!**_

… Sorry. That's actually pretty creepy. And you sound like you have more to tell.

… _**I may have kind of accidentally transported the two of you a year before the mainstream events happen. You know, when my vessel gets amnesia, etc., etc…**_

I took a deep breath in.

_+Grima…+_

And yelled out loud for the whole, entire world to hear, pouring in every ounce of annoyance and frustration.

"**GRIMAAAAAA**!"

* * *

**AlimBloodmoon: Hiyas, Onii-san! Thank you, and you're welcome. As I said, there will be seven servants. And the Saber-class people that Grima accidentally summoned that are running around aren't servants. They're just magical people.**

**Gunlord500: Thank you! Stay tuned! F/SN is awesome! And so is Saber!**

**BrowncoatJedi: It's okay. And lots of old heroes will appear, along with many OCs decendants and a very complicated backstory for the Brand of the Exalt and the Mark of Grima! And I like dark stuff. It's just me.**

**Cormag Ravenstaff: Ha. Don't worry most people can't. And thank you for everything.**

* * *

**A/N:**

**Now, let me hide in a corner and cry. Ugh. I don't know why I hate this chapter. Maybe it's because of its messy randomness that probably no one will ever understand.**

**If you have questions, just place it in the comments and I'll reply with PMs.**

**Read, Rate, and Review! Everything from praise to flames are accepted. Haters shall hate and be trolled. Trollers shall be poked. #pokethetrolls (It's a new thing.)**

**WTF is even going on anymore? Who is the pretty dragon that tried to kill me? Who is that person/thing I'm supposed to stop? Why is Grima a good guy? What happened to make me die? (No, not suicide.) Why am I asking random questions? All shall be revealed in the next chapter, "Robin"!**

**Anyways, as a warning, updates shall be sporadic. Don't ecpect anything from me in June. I'll be overseas visiting my relatives. I'll still write. I'm just not updating.**


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